Illogical Minds
by M00nlightfox
Summary: Hermione stared into the mirror feeling more and more a fool, as she continued to peer at her own face reflecting back at her. The mirror of true love indeed, she thought sardonically. It was then that she saw it and all of a sudden fear replaced any and all curiosity; fear that whatever she was about to see would change things forever. (Tomione - Rated T for now)
1. Chapter 1

**Illogical Minds**

 **Chapter one**

* * *

Hermione Granger was many things, but a fool she was not. Or at least that's what she kept telling herself as she stared at the display, her fingers hovering a scant above the glass surface, so close she could see her eyes looming back at her in the reflection. She knew far too much about the magical world to go round _poking_ mysterious artifacts, no matter how many times Lavender called her a goodie two-shoes. At sixteen, she had seen things she wish she hadn't, things no one could take back. Still, she couldn't quite deny that the mirror hidden behind glass, bronze, ornate and downright _old_ had a certain appeal.

It was not so much that it looked particularly magical or even unusual that held her, it was more the promise of unexplored potential. It was certainly not because of anything as whimsical as romance and love that captivated her – at least, that's what she kept telling herself as her fingers finally connected with the glass.

What was it Lavender had said again?

"I've heard about this mirror," she had said as she clung onto Ron's arm, her cheeks flushed as she stared at the display. "Verus Amor-"she had read from the tiny sign that accompanied it, to which Hermione couldn't quite hold back a laugh. "What's so funny?"

"'True love' in Latin, it's hardly original is it?" She scoffed, not lowering her voice for the benefit of Mr. Borgin who stared at the spectacle with ill-concealed impatience. He was never a fan of students, they always came to Borgin and Burkes in a wash of giggling curiosity that wasted his time, lured in by the promise of danger and unknown artifacts.

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you Hermione," Lavender said, a strange little smile on her face as she tossed her long hair back. "This thing might be able to help even you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that this mirror you laughed at is incredible. I've heard it shows you what you want most-"

"So like the mirror of Erised then?" Hermione interrupted with a roll of her eyes.

"Not quite. It shows a person their soul-mate," with that Lavender turned an awe-filled gaze back to the display, her face nearly pressing up against the glass. "Their other half, the missing puzzle piece. Their"-

"Bloody hell Lavender, calm down. Come on 'Mione, I think we should get these girls away before they start swooning," Ron said, looking to Hermione for support, oblivious to the slight he had made at not including her amongst 'the girls'. Lavender noticed however and shared a glimmer of a laugh with Parvati before they allowed Ron to steer them away.

The afternoon had passed by pleasantly, or as pleasantly as it could possibly be watching a pair snog for hours on end. Honestly sometimes she worried for Ron's lungs as of late. And yet Hermione had come back to the shop, ignoring Borgin's curious look as he watched her make straight for the mirror.

She was embarrassed of course to be seen eyeing a blatantly sentimental piece that was most likely rubbish. She reasoned however that everyone knew she had a natural curiosity for the unknown and this _thing_ was definitely unknown. How had Lavender heard of it and yet she had not? Besides, it's not like she was going to waste money on it – no she just wanted a closer look.

And then her fingers finally made contact with the glass and she swear she felt something, a tiny something that felt like a quick current of electricity moving beneath her fingertips. She leapt back with a gasp, a little taken aback and yet oddly invigorated. So it _was_ magic at least. Borgin –who was no nowhere to be seen- hadn't lied too badly then. She and everyone else knew his tendency to lie about 'artifacts'.

 _"_ _This thing might be able to help even you."_

Even you. The memory of Lavender's retort made her wince even now and she wholly blames it for the thought that came next. After all she was a girl, and one with feelings –no matter how much Ron liked to pretend otherwise. Maybe she could remove the silk sheet that covered most of the mirror from view and take a quick peak. After all, it couldn't hurt right? Moments after that thought she was already berating herself. Hermione was no fool and yet here she was allowing whimsy to get the better of her. Soul-mates, who had ever heard of something so stupid, so downright illogical?

She gave another little laugh to herself, only this time it was devoid of any real humor. It was a hollow sound even to her ears. It had been a long and tiring year for her, and if she were honest, lonely too. After Cedric's death, things hadn't quite been the same between the golden trio. They were close yes, closer than most friends, but Harry had taken to distancing himself from them nonetheless. He had always been prone to self-reflection and guilt and now that was only worse and this time, she didn't have Ron to help break him out of it. No, these days he was far more preoccupied with Lavender on the end of his big mouth than noticing anything was wrong with his friends. As always, Hermione immediately admonished herself for that thought. Ron deserved happiness like everyone else and God knows they deserved it after what they have all been through. It's just – where did that leave her?

Hermione's eyes crept back to the mirror, travelling up the ornate handle and to the sliver of its reflective glass that peaked out at her through the cloth. Decision made, she grabbed the silk in her hands, the black so stark against her skin and yanked it off the display.

Nothing happened.

Hermione stared into the mirror, giving it a few more seconds feeling more and more a fool as she continued to stare at her own face reflecting back at her. The mirror of true love indeed, she thought harshly. It was then that she saw it.

The glass suddenly wasn't glass at all but a dark rippling liquid that bubbled and churned disturbingly. For a moment she considered calling Mr. Borgin to her aid but then the image cleared. It became glass once more, only this time silver with little flecks of green seemingly falling on its surface. It was entrancing and beautiful. Against her better judgement Hermione leant even closer, and there she saw a shadow forming, a body materializing in the foreground.

All of a sudden fear replaced any and all curiosity, fear that whatever she was about to see would change things forever. It was an illogical fear, a fear that Hermione recognized as unlike herself and yet she was powerless to stop it. Without a backward glance, she fled the shop, leaving the mirror gleaming behind her with a face that had only just began to take shape. A face she would have recognized if given the chance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Hermione took solace where she always did – the library. With her feet curled under her and a book in her lap, she appeared to everyone else as serene, content even. In reality she was anything but calm, cursing herself for letting cowardice win. She couldn't even really say why she ran away, neither could she explain the keen disappointment she felt that she never got to see the mysterious figure in the glass. On the table beside her lay nearly a dozen books, ranging from the studies of divination to runes, all books she had exhausted in an attempt to find any mention of this so called true love mirror. She had found plenty mention of soul-mates within the divination section of course, all nonsensical romantic drivel as opposed to facts and evidence. In other words, it was hopeless and she was beginning to seriously wonder how on earth Lavender had heard of it in the first place. If she had less pride, she would have gone to ask herself but she would rather suffer and study alone than admit any curiosity towards the mirror.

That evening when she went to the great hall for dinner, she was noticeable quiet. Even Ron stopped to ask if she was ok, although she couldn't help but wonder how much of that was due to Lavender's absence. Still, he looked sincere, his blue eyes melting her resistance as they always did.

"I'm fine Ron it's just"- Hermione broke off, unsure how to explain what was bothering her without sound jealous –which she was- or that she was upset over Lavender's earlier remarks – which she also was. "Do you think that mirror we saw earlier can really show you your soul-mate?" She regretted the question as soon as she asked it, immediately recognizing the surprised look on Ron's face.

"Why?" He said cautiously; no doubt he had spent the afternoon being plagued with similar questions from Lavender, only in a more dreamy and personal manner she imagined.

"Because I think it's a load of nonsense," she said, trying not to get irritated at his obvious show of relief. "I can't help but be curious about its actual magical properties though. There must be a reason people call it what they do."

With that Ron made a small noise that suspiciously sounded like a grunt and continued eating, Harry however remained looking at Hermione with a frown. He was always the more perceptive of the two.

"A magic mirror?" He questioned, eyes searching Hermione's face with concern. "Be careful with those, they're not all they're cracked up to be." She knew immediately of what he was referring to, reasoning that perhaps he would be able to understand more than she had originally supposed. She hadn't forgotten the mirror of Erised and his temporary obsession, neither had she forgotten how painful it was for him to give it up.

Anything else Hermione was going to say was swallowed up by Lavender's return, her arm immediately snaking around Ron's shoulders in a way that made Hermione stab her food a little too hard. Harry's raised brows said he had noticed. Determined to remain aloof, she looked away from his gaze and let herself idly indulge in people watching, her eyes skimming from table to table. As she did so however, she couldn't help but wonder if any of the faces before her would have showed up in that mirror.

It was an anxiety-inducing thought, especially when her eyes fell on Draco with his sneer and pale skin. Even worse would have been Crabbe or Goyle. Merlin's beard what if either of their faces had shown up in the glass? That thought was so horrifying that her appetite promptly disappeared. It wasn't so much that she believed in soul-mates or any of that nonsense, but even the possibility of any of them being linked to her was too much to bear.

"Hermione? 'Mione?" When she back to the present, she found Harry watching her still. "Are you sure you're alright? You know you can always talk to us, or just me if you need to." The words as well as the concern in his gaze warmed her instantly. Even distant as he had been, Harry could always be relied on to care. The trouble was, Hermione wasn't sure she could put into words just how lonely she has been even if she tried.

With a smile that was far brighter than she felt, Hermione promised she was fine and forced herself to eat the rest of her dinner, pushing her worries to the back of her mind where they belonged.

They didn't stay there of course. Like any good worry, they came creeping back in the dead of night just as she resolved to try and sleep. Lying in her bed surrounded by Gryffindor colours, Hermione tried so hard to take comfort in familiarity. After all, Hogwarts had been her true home since the moment she first opened her letter. Now however, she couldn't help dwelling on an item of dubious authenticity, in the most dubious of shops. It was ridiculous…but what if it was all true?

What if there was such a thing as soul-mates and Hermione could really find hers? The more Hermione tried to argue that thought with logic and reason, the more it bounced back, determined to have itself heard.

Her last thought before sleep finally took her was a tempting one; if it turned out to be real, she wouldn't ever be alone ever again.

Alongside rain, the morning brought with it a cold sense of reality. Soulmates are fanciful and Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age, has nothing to fear from a magical mirror. In fact she downright refused to be one of those girls pining after destined love and instead focused her attention on her studies with a veracity that surpassed even her usual.

She ignored Draco's jeering, even smiled calmly in the face of his taunting words which served to shut him up faster than any retort of her own could ever do. She ignored Lavender's use of 'Won and Wonald' as well as Ron's wandering hands and she even managed to ignore Harry's continued use of the damn book that won him constant praise from Slughorn. Well, she mostly ignored that one. She almost didn't resist the urge to try out Ginny's infamous bat bogey-hex for herself when she saw Harry's smug face.

By the time the sun had begun to set, Hermione was in a good mood. She had laughed, she had smiled, she had chatted aimlessly as if they were normal kids. She almost felt normal too, especially as Ginny and she sat in the common room sharing assorted sours as they used to. Everything faded fast however with one problematic question.

"Do you still like my brother?"

Hermione felt her smile disappear, no matter how hard she tried to hold onto it. Briefly she considered her options, she could lie and say she never liked Ron, not really, or she could say her feelings died when Lavender came into the picture. The one thing she refused to admit out loud however, was how much it hurt to see them together.

"Sometimes," she admitted in a small voice, surprising even herself with her honesty. "Other times seeing him and the way he is with" – Hermione forces herself to stop then but it was too late. Ginny, as she always did, knew exactly what her closest friend was thinking.

"With Lavender," Ginny finished for her, her eyes soft and voice sympathetic. Neither of them said anything more, they didn't have to. Instead they just sat there in compatible silence, the warmth of the fire bathing everything in an orange glow. "You know if it helps I could always hex them both." The offer is so surprising when combined with her gentle tone that Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "Remember when Ron was vomiting slugs? I could recreate that for you."

"Ginevra Weasley, you are _devious._ "

By the next day, Hermione barely spared a thought for the mirror or the idea of soul-mates at all. In fact when she thought of the mirror and her previous fascination, she couldn't help but wonder what on earth had gotten into her.

"Mione will you take a look at my homework?"

"Really Ronald?" With an exaggerated sigh, Hermione sat down for breakfast and stared at the papers he handed her. She knew by now that taking a look could easily turn into her doing the entire thing for him. Still, she would not let even that ruin her mood today. It took her far too long to realise he was wearing an absurdly wide-brimmed, and amusingly floppy hat atop his head, and when she did she couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright it's not that funny," he said with a glare. "My mum made me this hat."

"I'm sure she did, but since when you wear anything she makes in public?"

"He's hiding from Lavender," Harry interjected, smile already in place. "Frankly I wish he'd hide from us too looking like that. Now the Slytherins have cause to laugh at us."

"Oh right laugh it up. It's worked hasn't it? She's not bothered me once this morning," Ron said, sending quick furtive glances around the table.

"Probably because she's too embarrassed to be seen with someone wearing that," Hermione couldn't help but laugh, not even as his face coloured red. "Regardless, I'm happy for the break. It's nice to have you back with us Ronald." He did smile at that, if only briefly.

Hermione's reprieve didn't last long. In a swirl of robes and curls, Lavender bustled to their position at the table and promptly placed herself between her and Ron. Her annoyance would have been far greater if her gaze didn't immediately latch onto what Lavender held in her manicured hand.

"Is that what I think it is?" Hermione said, not even bothering with a greeting.

"What? Oh you mean this rubbish thing?" With that Lavender brandished the mirror in front of her, staring at her reflection glumly. "I bought it from Borgin and Burkes yesterday. It's a useless piece of tin. Doesn't even work." With that she dumped it onto the table with a loud clang, barely sparing a glance to Hermione who flinched from its sudden proximity.

It was bizarre, incomprehensible even but as she saw it lying there, all those thoughts and feelings of abject loneliness and hope for something more came swarming back. She could feel it even, feel the same shocking current running through her fingertips even though she hadn't even touched it.

"What do you mean it doesn't work?" She said, her voice small even to her own ears.

"I mean it's just an ordinary mirror," Lavender replied impatiently. "Showed me nothing but my face. Although, Ron here"- without barely a pause she thrust the mirror into Ron's hands and directed the glass at his face. Like Lavender, Hermione couldn't help but hold her breath as they waited for something.

Still nothing happened.

"See, it's just a piece of rubbish."

Hermione stared at the glass and at Ron's bored face, completely perplexed. Rubbish and useless Lavender had called it and indeed it did appear so today. But she couldn't forget the shadowy figure forming in the glass when _she_ held it even if she wanted to. It was magical, she could feel it, she saw it even! Saying nothing, she watched as it was passed around to Harry who had the exact same reaction as Ron. Again, nothing happened and she grew more and more disconcerted by the second.

"How much did you pay for it?" She heard Ron ask. Whatever the answer, Hermione didn't hear it as she became so focused on that mirror she blocked out all sounds. Surely she didn't imagine her own experience with it…

Amidst the great hall chatter, nobody noticed as a pale Hermione leant forward and slowly reached out to touch the handle, grasping and feeling the cool metal against her skin. Still there was that same electric pulsing, more so now. When she lifted it to her face and the glass once again began to move and shift, she waited with baited breath, her heart pounding in her chest and the blood rushing. Soon a face began to form out of shadows, slowly becoming flesh before her very eyes, her grip so tight her knuckles had turned white.

And there he was.

He was beautiful, hauntingly so with sharp, hollow cheekbones – the kind that shadows loved to play with. His skin was pale, smooth and his eyes a dark blue that appeared almost black, eyes that sucked you in and indeed for a moment, Hermione felt she was. His hair was wavy and impeccably groomed, not at all like her peers and his lips full but stern. The expression he wore was black but cold, almost painfully so and she fancied the air had gotten a couple degrees colder around her just from his gaze. That was until she realized why the face was so familiar to her and when she did, she clambered to her feet and flung the mirror away from her with a startled gasp. To her disappointment, the glass didn't shatter.

"Hermione, what's gotten into you?" She heard Ron shout. She felt hands on her arms, heard Lavender doing her own shouting in the background, could hear Harry's earnest voice asking her something, and yet all she could see were Tom Riddle's eyes peering out at her from the mirror's surface.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three**

 **A/N: thank you guys so much for the reviews, it always helps to keep the inspiration going when I know people are enjoying it. And thank you for all the follows and favourites too! I hope this story keeps hitting the right notes for you all - enjoy!**

"Hermione? 'Mione?"

Everyone was staring, she could feel their eyes and their judgement cloaking her. But that was fine, she was used to that already, what she wasn't and could never be used to was that face staring at her, right at her as if he too could see her. Her breathing tight and almost painful, she briefly considered stamping on the glass for good measure, but Lavender was still staring at her in horror.

It's a trick, she thought. It's a trick, it's a trick…What was it Harry had said? Magic mirrors couldn't be trusted…Well she certainly had reason to mistrust this one.

"Hermione?" It's Harry, his face entering her view as he stands in front of the mirror, eclipsing Tom Riddle completely. "What's wrong?" His voice was calm, grounding, but try as she might she couldn't quite get the words out, couldn't bear to see the look of horror on his face if she told him. He already had so much to worry about.

"Nothings wrong," she finally managed to force words out, wincing at how obvious a lie it was. "I just felt dizzy all of a sudden." Both Harry and Ron eyed her dubiously.

"Do you want us to take you to Madame Pomfrey?"

"Nono, honestly Harry I'm fine. I think I might go lie down though"-

"Not so fast. You nearly broke my mirror!" Lavender said, her loud voice grating on Hermione's already frayed nerves.

The last thing she heard before she turned and fled from the hall was Ron's voice, equally as loud only in defence of her. "Oh come off it Lav, you just called the thing a piece of rubbish."

Hermione resisted the urge to run; she refused to present a spectacle anymore than she already had. Still she couldn't quite manage to control the racing of her heart and the shaking of her hands. It wasn't until she made it to the library and realised it empty that she let the semblance of calm go.

You can't trust magic mirrors, she reminded herself, especially ones that appeal to childish wishes of romance and soul mates. Besides, Borgin and Burkes wasn't exactly infamous for its reliability. He could have verily sold Lavender a cheap trinket, one that presented fears as love out of a sort of sick joke. She knew there were lots of artifacts like that out there.

By the time Hermione began pulling books from the shelves, she felt better for having rationalised it reasonably in her mind. There is just no way that Voldemort could be her soul mate and besides even if it was true, surely the mirror would have shown her his snake-like form she was more familiar with.

Merlin imagine if the mirror had shown her that ghastly face. Surely she'd be feeling even worse now if she had stared into those red eyes narrowed by malice instead.

Her thoughts halted when she came across something useful -it was a passage on magic mirrors, the mirror of erised in particular.

 _Like many mirrors of magical origins, the creation of the mirror of Erised is shrouded in mystery. While undeniably bewitching, it is unknown whether it was created out of good intentions, or malicious means. In theory, the mirror appears harmless, romantic even and yet it's victims -as I dub them- are left feeling unfulfilled rather than emboldened. I would even go as far to say it creates an unnatural obsession -_

Hermione could definitely agree to that, remembering all those nights where Harry snuck off to live vicariously through reflected desires, his eyes glassy and skin pale whenever he came back.

 _-for the reflected world is often far kinder than the corporeal one. One thing can be sure, the mirror of Erised, like others of its kind, is more interesting than helpful and sucks happiness more than it gives it._

It wasn't much and if she really thought about it, it wasn't all that helpful but Hermione couldn't deny how much it relieved her to see the written word casting doubt on magical mirrors alongside her. Slamming the book shut, she determined that she was not about to fall prey to a mirror of false promises. She wasn't Harry who was ruled by heart over head, she was Hermione the brightest witch of her age - or at least that's what she told herself.

Her subconscious clearly didn't agree with her if her dreams were anything to go by.

It felt real, so real that at first when she had awoken in a plush armchair, she thought she had merely been sleep walking. The first sensation she became aware of was heat, so intense it kissed the backs of her hands and front of her legs uncomfortably. When she finally opened her eyes, fire was the first thing she saw, beautiful orange ribbons that danced back and forth, flicking shadows here there and everywhere. That was her first clue that something was wrong, the giant stone fireplace carved into the wall was not the fireplace from the common room. The second clue was the colours. There were no warm reds and oranges here, only black and green with trimmings of silver. _Slytherin colours?_

 _Am I in the slytherin common room_?

When her eyes fell on the books, she felt her pulse quicken despite herself and couldn't quite stop the smile. There were just so many of them, all lining the walls in thick leather bounds. She moved then, cautious steps with her slippers against the plush carpet and the fire crackling the only sounds.

Her third and final clue that she was dreaming, came in the form of a presence behind her. She can't say how she knew, there were no sounds but the tiny hairs at the back of her neck began to stand and she had that indescribable feeling of being watched. Still looking at the books, Hermione slowly reached down to the wand In her pocket.

"Looking for this?" At the deep voice, she whirled around immediately, her heart in her throat as she saw him. He sat there, his elbows braced on his knees, his hand perched delicately atop his hand as if he had been waiting and watching her for some time. As she predicted, the flames flickered across the panes of his face, exaggerating the hollows of his cheeks, almost making him appear a macabre statue. The shadows were kind to Tom Riddle.

"You," was all she said, and it somehow came out as an accusation. With a slow and deliberate smile, Tom Riddle leant back in his chair and slowly brought a wand -her wand- to his face. She instantly froze with fear, her mind trying to make sense of what was happening. Nothing about this was right, waking up in a Slytherin room, with Riddle, with her wand too…this had to be a dream.

"You sound like you know me girl," Riddle said, his voice careful yet smooth. His use of the word 'girl', especially as the way he looked now instantly grated against her, but fear still won out. It had to be a dream and yet that didn't detract from her terror. He would hurt her, kill her possibly and she wondered how much it would hurt. After all the heat from the fire felt so real she couldn't help but worry what else would.

"What is this?" Hermione couldn't help but voice her confusion. "Where am I?"

"You're where I want you," with that he stood up, his dark robes stark against his pale skin. "I'm going to ask you again, do you know who I am?" When he took a step forward, his eyes brightened by fire, she couldn't help but take a step back. She could have said something, even a yes would do but instead she found herself shaking her head, if only to dispel the dark look in his eyes. "Then why are you so scared?" He takes another step-

"Stay away from me," her outburst surprises them both, her more so. Ever-so-slightly the corner of his mouth twitched into a hint of a smile.

"Alright girl, we'll play your little game." To her surprise, he did back away and instead crossed the room, not to her, but towards the fire. As he stood with his back to her, she couldn't stop herself from studying his profile. It was as perfect as the rest of him.

"Don't call me girl." If her curt demand annoyed him, he didn't show it. He didn't show much of anything.

"Then what should I call you?" He spared her a glance then, his fingers skimming over her wand.

She didn't answer, instead Hermione dared to drag her gaze around from him, eyes roaming around the room once more.

"Is this a dream?" She asked. "This has to be a dream, a really bad one." He didn't answer, not that she really expected him to.

"I know you," with a sharp intake of breath, she realised Riddle had somehow managed to approach her silently, his eyes sharp and cold. "I've seen your face before," he continued. Finally an emotion flittered across his face, curiosity.

"And I wish I had never seen yours," she replied, her voice earnest. He didn't react to that strange statement, just continued to stare down at her impassively. Hermione had had enough of whatever this was, she wanted to wake up and told herself so, her voice loud in the sudden silence of the room.

"Why are you so sure this is a dream?"

"Because this is impossible," she said, trying to force strength into her voice. She didn't want even dream Riddle to know he scared her.

He finally smiled, it was a quick flash of straight white teeth and then it was over. A short movement but she imagined if it had belonged to anyone else, the affect would have dazzled her. As it were, it only left her feeling cold.

"If there's one thing I've learnt _girl_ ," another smile with that, "it's that nothing is entirely impossible. Hard perhaps, a little inconvenient possibly, but never impossible." As she considered all the things Voldemort had ever achieved, she could see why he would feel that way. As much as they disgusted her, he had done things no one had ever done before, had touched on magic no one else dared to touch. Still she held no admiration for him, not even in the pretty packaging he may be wearing now, for she new his knowledge was built on bodies.

Her musings halted when Riddle took a sudden step closer, so close the front of his robes brushed against hers. He was taller and more broad shouldered than she had originally thought - or perhaps it was only her subconscious imagining him that way?

"If you're so sure this is a dream," Riddle said, his voice soft. "Then why don't you just wake up? Wake up Hermione. Wake up. Wake up" - _Hermione. Wake up. Wake up Hermione wake-_

" Up! Wake up," with a terrified scream Hermione came lurching upwards so fast, her forehead collided with something that felt impossibly hard. "Bloody hell, what was that for?" It was Ginny, albeit an angry one rubbing a vastly growing bruise on her forehead. "That's what I get I suppose for trying to wake you from a nightmare. Next time I'm just casting a muffliato charm and going back to sleep."

So it was just a nightmare. With a whoosh of relief, Hermione flopped back onto her bed, palms still sweating at her sides as she watched Ginny leave. As she looked around the dorms, never before had Gryffindor colours been so comforting. Shakily, Hermione reached over until her fingers found her wand, immediately clasping around it's cool surface. She gave another sigh of relief, it was just a dream.

As she went back to sleep, her last thought was a wish that she never see a certain someone's face again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four**

It was the third time in the space of ten minutes that Hermione's hand shot up, a self-satisfied smile on her lips as she remained unaware of the glares aimed at her back. Even Ron couldn't quite contain a bad-tempered mutter when she answered yet another question in that confident voice of hers. "Someone's got their pep back," he said caustically, nudging Harry conspiratorially. He wasn't wrong, Hermione felt herself again, smiling even as Snape rolled his eyes at her. Since that strange, awful nightmare of Riddle, she had seen neither sight nor sound of him for two whole days. She hadn't even seen the mirror again what with Lavender back to being preoccupied with Ronald, each of them failing in their attempts at subtlety while they sought out stolen moments in empty classrooms or quiet closets. She didn't even want to imagine the kind of things they had been doing...

Before her good mood could be soured by a jealousy she refused to acknowledge, she raised her hand yet again, shooting Malfoy a self-satisfied look beside her. "Anyone?" Came Snape's monotoned voice. "Anyone but Granger?" In response, her arm went even higher; she would not be ignored. When Snape awarded another right answer with house points, albeit reluctantly, she finally sat back feeling better than she had in a while. Things were normal again, they were right and she had seriously started to wonder why she had ever worried in the first place. A magic mirror, she had never heard something so downright fanciful. It was something straight out of those silly romance books she had always scorned when she were younger.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Harry asked as soon as the lesson ended and everyone started filing out of the classroom. Unlike Ron however, he sounded only relieved by her change of heart.

"We all have our bad days," Hermione said evasively. "Can't I have mine?" He didn't press, too fearful of that withdrawn look arriving on her face again.

"Does this mean you'll help us with our homework again?" Ron piped up hopefully, coming to stand in between them.

"You know Ron, if you spent as much time on your work as you did _snogging_ in cupboards, you might actually not need my help." Despite the words, Hermione actually laughed, especially as Ron had the good grace to look embarrassed, his face mottling with colour.

* * *

Hermione's good mood continued on until dinner, a feeling that seemed to be shared by the rest of the students all gathered in the Great Hall. She piled her plate high, almost as high as Ron's for she had lost her appetite before and was making up for lost time. There was only one moment where she seemed to waver. Leaning forward to grab a pumpkin pasty, she noticed Neville reading something, his face creased in concentration. She was instantly intrigued, it wasn't like Neville not to involve himself in festivities even quietly.

"What are you reading?" She asked when she caught his eye.

" _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes",_ he replied wearily as if he had been pouring over its pages for some time. "I'm behind in charms." Taking pity on his red eyes and pale skin, Hermione moved closer, already looking over the pages _._ She had barely managed to read even a single word before he snatched the book from under her nose, slamming it shut unceremoniously.

"I was just going to offer my help," she said, startled. Neville's face paled even more but just as he opened his mouth to reply, Lavender chose that moment to appear, her long arm snaking around Ron's shoulder instantly. It was unfair, she knew it, but Hermione couldn't quite repress the disappointment that came from the trio unwittingly expanding. Even so, she offered her smiles and tried to act interested when Lavender launched into a yet more gossip.

"So guess who's brought fire whiskey for tonight?" She said, her smile infectious as she leant across the table, her long hair spilling. That finally caught Hermione's intention, she had forgotten about the gathering in the common room tonight but fire whiskey was definitely _not_ permitted. She was on the verge of saying so when she caught sight of how excited Harry and Ron both looked - did she really want to risk spoiling her mood for the sake of being pedantic? People did always call her a goodie two-shoes but maybe tonight she could break that cycle.

"I don't suppose you'll be joining us Hermione?" Lavender said not unkindly. Ron didn't bother to hide his derisive snort.

"Mione? It's not really her" - He cut off awkwardly when he caught her glare.

"Not my what Ronald?" Hermione said, eyes narrowed in a way that made him squirm nervously. "I'll be there _and_ I may even partake in some drink myself." She wouldn't, of course she wouldn't, but Ron didn't have to know that. With a flick of her big hair, Hermione turned her attention back to Lavender; Neville was completely forgotten and so when he ducked away to leave the hall, no one noticed.

Hermione kept true to her word in that she didn't disappear as soon as the drink was brought out, nor did she lurk in a corner buried in a book. She couldn't however quite stop the look of disapproval marring her face when Harry and Ron spurned their usual butter beer for fire whiskey straight away, their coughing and sputtering evidence of their inexperience. The Gryffindor common room was full, voices and laughter washing over her and drowning out her thoughts while she slowly drank her pumpkin fizz, idly wondering if this constituted as changing her rather dull reputation.

"Why do you care so much?" Ginny asked besides her when Hermione voiced her concern. "And what happened to your good mood?"

"I'm still in a good mood," Hermione replied honestly. "I just wanted to mix things up a little."

"You already have. You let me give you a makeover remember." For the fifth time that night, Hermione looked down at herself and her bare legs self-consciously, once again questioning the wisdom of allowing Ginny to persuade her into a dress. It wasn't like anyone noticed either. With an angry start Hermione reminded herself that this wasn't for anyone else, especially not a red-headed someone- this was for her own benefit. Said red-head was currently locking lips with Lavender, completely oblivious to the thoughts centered on him across the room. Determined to forget about him and everything else that threatened to take over, Hermione shook it all off and buried herself back into a conversation with Ginny.

Sat surrounded by Gryffindor colours and familiar faces, it wasn't long before she was laughing; Ginny always knew exactly what to say to cheer up her friend and vice versa. Everyone was smiling, even Harry, the tension leaving his shoulders with every terrible joke Ron made and for one tiny moment Hermione allowed herself to imagine if this was how their lives _should_ have been all along if they were just normal teenagers. Tucking her thick hair behind her ears, Hermione lay back into the cushions, her hands toying with her now-empty glass and the heat of the fire curling around her. In her fingers she had begun to feel the pleasant sensation of alcohol taking effect and she imagined that there was nothing that could ruin her contentment in that moment. She may have been right if she had avoided looking into the mirror.

It wasn't even the supposed magical mirror that did it, but the normal reflective glass as she spared a curious glance for her reflection. It was just a second, but in that moment she swore it was someone else staring back at her, someone with a firmer jaw and far sharper cheekbones than her. Someone she had been trying her hardest to forget. But then it was gone and all that was staring back at her were her normal brown eyes.

 _It was a mistake_ , she told herself. _A simple mistake after too much drink_. The flash of _something_ had been so fast she couldn't quite trust herself on what she had seen and yet still she could feel her heart beating so loud she was amazed no one else could hear it. The buzz of alcohol was no longer pleasant, now it only added to her panic as she shot to her feet, unable to stay still. In a whirl of blue skirts and long hair, Hermione made her exist, either oblivious or ignoring Ginny's concerned shouts behind her.

 _It was a mistake_ , she repeated. _A mistake brought on by stress and drink. That wasn't completely preposterous sounding was it?_ Desperate to make herself feel better and stave off the increasing panic, Hermione all but clambered into bed, instantly cocooning herself amongst her blankets. It worked a little and as she lay there contemplating all the reasons why her brain may have made a mistake in supplying that particular face, she slowly began to feel better. Almost...

Despite her hasty exit, not one person came up to check on her but she couldn't find it in herself to resent them for it. After all, they deserved to relax too after all they had been through and who was she to deny them that? Still, as she lay confused and frankly a little scared, she couldn't deny that awful feeling of familiar loneliness that began to creep up on her once more. She must have drank more than she realised however or her body was tired of battling stress, for she soon gave in to the sleep that was weighing her down.

* * *

She was late, she realised that straight away when she caught sight of the time on her nightstand, and yet it was with slow and unhurried movements that she continued to drink her morning coffee -an old habit-, her shoulder propped against the window pane. It was raining outside, the sky grey and daunting, filled with so much cloud there couldn't be anything less than a storm and when she leaned forward just a little bit closer, her breath came out in little puffs that steamed against the glass. Turning her back on the view, Hermione finished her coffee and continued finishing her tie in brisk, confident movements. Despite not getting much sleep last night, she couldn't deny that she felt surprisingly rejuvenated as she smoothed down her shirt and shrugged into her school robes. Catching sight of the prefect badge on her chest she gave a short sigh of contentment - _wait, is that...nevermind._

Today was going to be a good day; she wasn't quite sure how or why she knew that, only that she did. Though the sky was dark, her mood was light as she finally left the dorm with one last picking over her uniform to make sure everything was in perfect order. She was later than she had first supposed, completely missing breakfast as everyone filled the halls all wondering tiredly towards their first lessons. Still Hermione continued in her leisurely pace and she couldn't help but marvel at how calm she felt this morning. Neither could she help but notice that not a single person had bumped into her in the early rush. Whenever she walked these halls alone late in the mornings, she always warred with the other panicked students, all of whom seemed intent on mowing her down as if her small size marked her as insignificant. Now however, everyone who passed did so with a wide berth, but she felt their eyes linger.

There was most definitely something strange about today, but she still couldn't quite muster the desire to care.

She didn't go to any classroom as she had expected, instead she surprised even herself by heading straight to the library. Still at least one thing remained the same, the faintly musty smell and the sight of books on books were instantly soothing to the senses, as if welcoming her home. Flashing a quick smile at Madame Pince who frankly looked different in an indiscernible way that she put down to tiredness, she strode across the room with wide steps, going further than she usually did. Stopping just outside the restricted section, Hermione finally gave thought to those that may be watching, giving a quick glance behind her. Still, if she were to be questioned she had a note of permission prepared.

"Tom! Sorry Madame Pine" - a nasally voice stopped her and when she turned, she saw a pale boy coming towards her with hair so pale it was almost white. _Is he talking to me?_ "Tom, old Slug has been asking after you," he said once he was near, his eyes looking up at Hermione.

"Then tell him I'm sick," she found herself answering, surprised by the irritation in her voice.

"I would but he seemed insistent. He asked me all sorts of things"- With an irritated sigh that almost sounded like a snarl, Hermione pulled away from the restricted section and dragged the boy into an alcove.

"What kind of _things_ Malfoy?" Malfoy squirmed at the tone of her voice, face twisting uncomfortably as he tried to pull away. "I told you I didn't want to be disturbed today."

"I know Riddle," he said, and by then something finally set off in Hermione's head, an uncomfortable realisation as if she were just waking up from a dream. _Riddle. He had called me Riddle. He had called me Tom - oh Merlin._ She didn't hear the rest of what Malfoy continued to say, nor did she hear what she -he?- replied back, her voice now smug and patronising and her hands lifting to smooth her robes. She caught sight of the prefect badge once more as she did so, finally realised what had been so jarring about it the first time. She was in Slytherin. Internally she was screaming now, trying desperately to bring order and logic to her still slow and sluggish mind that was struggling to keep up. Externally however, she smiled, a handsome movement that somehow only made Malfoy appear even more nervous, and slowly led him deeper into the library.

"I will accompany you to old Slug soon Malfoy," she was saying in a voice she now recognised as not her own. "But first I must show you something." Still Hermione continued to scream, only no sound was coming out, nor any sign of the horror she was feeling. Slowly, subtly her hand reached inside her robes for her wand, excitement filling her when her skin touched the smooth, cool wood. She wanted to turn, to warn Malfoy of foul intentions but still she had no control.

Finally Hermione Granger woke up screaming, screaming even as she saw Ginny rush towards her in a mass of bedraggled red hair. She was back in her own bed, in her own body but she retracted the foolish statement she had made to herself earlier. Something was definitely, _definitely_ wrong.


End file.
